


Gone

by snarkysweetness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Epic, F/M, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Moving On, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkysweetness/pseuds/snarkysweetness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after ‘The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter’ and before ‘The Stranger’; Emma deals with Graham’s death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone

**Author's Note:**

> It really bothers me that they never really mourned Graham on the show. I also really liked the interview Jennifer Morrison did where she talked about how Graham let Emma let herself love someone for the first time and how he’s the reason she’ll be open to finding love next season. I didn’t really intend for this story to go in the direction that it did, but it seemed very ‘Emma’ to me, so I rolled with it.

The entire evening was one big blur. One moment she was kissing Graham, feeling like maybe, this time, her heart wouldn’t get broken, and the next, he was gone. Just like that. She was far too jaded to hope that it was all one big nightmare. She lay, curled up, trying to recall what had come next.

She remembered the screaming and crying. Both coming from her. Someone had eventually pulled her off of Graham. Archie, she recalls after a moment. Alerted by her screaming, no doubt. She’d tried to go with Graham’s body when they came to take him, but Archie had held her back. She’d fought him, but she eventually wound up crying against his chest until Margaret showed up to take care of her.

Emma refused to speak on the way home. She’d stopped crying, but she was in shock. She’d ignored Mary Margaret’s attempts to get her to talk about it. Emma went straight for her bedroom as soon as they returned to their small apartment, curled up, and began crying all over again. Emma wasn’t a crier, but she couldn’t make the tears stop for hours. It was as if she had lost complete control of her own body.

At some point, Mary Margaret slid into bed with her to hold her while she cried. Emma was grateful for the gesture. In a short amount of time the two had become family, something Emma never had or expected to have in this lifetime. But now she had Margaret and Henry and…

Emma closed her eyes tightly, fighting off images of Graham falling to the ground.

Archie had come by sometime in the middle of the night. She’d listened in as he told Mary Margaret that they were calling it a heart attack. It didn’t make any sense. Graham was a healthy man in his early thirties; he didn’t die from a fucking heart attack. He couldn’t have. It wasn’t possible.

Some part of her was beginning to wonder if her kid was right.

Graham’s final moments flashed through her head for the millionth time.

_“What?” Graham looking at her with that adorable smirk of his and those puppy dog eyes._

_Deciding to give into what she’d been fighting for weeks._

_Graham letting her make the first move, to make sure that this time, it’s what she wants. And it is._

_Kissing him. Forgetting about the rest of the world, just for a few, wonderful seconds._

_Graham pulling away, confusing lining his features._

_“You okay?”_

_And then relief._

_“I remember.”_

_Now it was her turn to be confused._

_“Graham?”_

_“I remember.”_

_“You remember what?”_

_And then he was crying and looking at her like she was the only person in the world, which made her smile and feel like maybe sticking around this town wasn’t the worst decision she’d ever made._

_“Thank you.”_

_He leaned in to kiss her and then…_

A small sob escaped her.

This was stupid. There was no curse. Graham was just experiencing the same thing she’d been experiencing; remember how to feel again. Emma had closed herself off after Henry’s father had screwed her and then dumped her like a dog, leaving her to fend for herself and their kid. Graham had been screwing Regina because he didn’t think he deserved better. And for that brief moment, they’d both felt something.

It still didn’t explain why he was gone, though.

Emma could feel Mary Margaret watching her. She opened her eyes to find her leaning in the doorway holding a mug of cocoa. “You need to eat or drink something, Emma.”

“I’m not hungry,” Emma whispered. It was the first time she’d spoken since Archie had pulled her away from Graham’s dead body.

Mary Margaret looked at her for a long moment, debating arguing with her, but she just let out a sigh and moved back towards the kitchen. She knew when to pick her battles and this wasn’t a battle; Emma was already willing to forfeit.

“Margaret,” Emma called. “I-he’s really gone?” She sounded like a small child, but she needed to hear it from someone, to remind herself.

Mary Margaret turned to look at Emma and for a long moment Emma could see her pity. Mary Margaret gave her a small nod. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

Emma curled back up into a small ball and fell asleep, having nightmares about Graham dying.

When she woke up again, the kid was sitting at the edge of her bed, watching her. It occurred to her for a moment that he looked eerily like Mary Margaret, but it passed. She already felt crazy enough.

“Hey kid.”

She tried putting on a brave face for him, but she failed. Miserably. Besides, it was late afternoon, the town had gone an entire day without its Deputy Sheriff to gawk at, so naturally, they probably all knew that she was hiding and grieving. Including the kid.

It was impossible to keep a secret in this damn town.

Emma knew that adult thing to do was to get out of bed, shower, go to work, and deal with her pain. But she couldn’t make herself do it. Her entire life she’d ignored her pain or ran away from it. This time, she couldn’t run. Running meant leaving town. Leaving Henry. She wasn’t going to leave him, not now. Not ever. Regina was his mom, but Emma was too now, kind of. And she loved him too much to completely turn her back on him and this town.

She’d be an adult tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d make herself put on a brave face, but today she was going to stay in bed and be miserable. She deserved the day to feel her pain and Graham deserved to have someone mourn him properly.

Henry was perceptive; she had to give him that. Just as she was debating climbing out of bed, for his sake, Henry climbed into bed with her and held her hand.

“It’s okay Emma, you can cry if you want to. I won’t tell anyone.”

Emma could have laughed then, if she wasn’t feeling so miserable. She was the grown-up; she was supposed to be comforting him, not the other way around. Some mom she was. Her decision to give Henry up had been a wise one, but when Regina started behaving like a nut job, Emma began to question her decision. Right now, however, she wasn’t questioning anything when it concerned Henry.

Besides, she didn’t need to be thinking about Henry in regards to Regina, because just the thought of Regina was enough to flare her chest up with anger. A deep, burning hatred and Emma wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because Regina had the chance to be Graham, while Emma had barely begun. Or for the way she manipulated and used Graham. However, some small part of her knew that it was because, as irrational as she knew she was feeling, Emma blamed Regina’s for Graham’s death. She didn’t know why and it was completely foolish, but it was how she felt.

Graham had to have been sick. It was the only explanation she’d managed to come up with. He’d been hiding some illness from all of them and it’d come to claim him.

“Thanks kid,” Emma croaked out a moment later, realizing she’d been so lost in thought, her gaze hadn’t left the wall, “but I think I’m all cried out.” She wasn’t sure if it was the truth, but she really hoped it was.

Emma couldn’t handle more crying. Not today. Maybe not ever.

Henry gave her a small nod and leaned into Emma when she pulled him in for a hug. He smelled like Cinnamon. Emma found herself smiling for the first time that day and looked up to find Mary Margaret watching them in the doorway, looking relieved.

Emma’s next visitor came that evening, after Mary Margaret used Henry to convince Emma into the shower and into some clean clothes. Emma had resisted at first, her clothes still smelled like Graham, but when she realized how pathetic it sounded even to herself, she agreed to follow Mary Margaret’s orders.

She now sat on the sofa, holding a steaming mug of cocoa, staring at a plate of pie when Archie arrived.

“You should really talk about it. It’ll make you feel better, Emma.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Archie,” Emma whispered, not wanting to be rude, but she wasn’t ready to talk about it. What would she even say anyway? “Some guy I knew for a few weeks died in my arms and I may have been in love with him?” Archie wouldn’t get it and Emma didn’t want anyone else to know about it, not yet. These were her feelings to feel, not her feelings to broadcast to the world.

Besides, if she ever decided that she was ready to open up about how she felt about Graham, it wouldn’t be with Archie. Margaret, maybe. After all, she was Emma’s family. Coming to Storybrooke had changed Emma in many ways, but not enough to make her feel comfortable talking to a shrink about her problems, even if Archie was a friend.

Archie and Margaret exchanged glances, both clearly worried.

“Stop looking at me like that, I’ll be fine. I may not be fine right now, but I will be,” she insisted, even taking a sup of her chocolate to prove it.

Mary Margaret sighed and led Archie into the kitchen for desert. Before Archie left her eyesight, Emma called after him.

“Thank you, Archie. For last night.”

“Of course. Anytime, Miss Swan.”

For the second time that day, she found herself smiling. Emma didn’t know what it was about Archie, but he brought out a sense of calm in people. “Just Emma, Archie.”

He gave her a smile and she took another sip of her chocolate. At least she was feeling more human than she had this morning.

The next morning, Emma did just what she’d promised herself she’d do. She got out of bed, showered, ate breakfast, and forced herself to go in to work as acting Sheriff, all with the air that she was just fine. The only time she deviated from the act was when she took an extra ten minutes in the shower so she could cry her eyes out. She hadn’t even broken down or snapped at Mary Margaret when asked if she was okay.

“I’ll get through it,” she’d assured her best friend. And it was the truth. Emma had spent her entire life getting through painful experiences. Why should this be any different?

Emma stood in front of the Sheriff’s Station, working up the nerve to go inside. She’d have to do it eventually, but she knew she wasn’t ready to return to the scene of Graham’s death. Everything was still too fresh. Emma would do it, though, just like she did everything else, with a brick wall around her heart. Because that was the only way she knew how to keep going.

Across the street, Emma caught sight of Regina and the two women held the other’s gaze for what felt like hours. The rage Emma had felt the day before returned, but she pushed it back, determined to be the bigger person.

Breaking eye contact, Emma slammed the door to her bug and strode into the Sheriff’s Station, like she owned the place. She refused to look weak in front of Regina. Anyone but her.

She threw her jacked onto Graham’s desk and sat in the chair that Graham had once sat in. Closing her eyes, Emma made a vow to herself that she wouldn’t let anyone know how she felt. She’d ignore her pain in public and save it for when she was alone. No one needed to know that she’d loved Graham, that his death was killing her inside, and that she blamed herself for not being able to save him.

Pretending was something that she was good at.

Emma pretended to be fine so well that even Mary Margaret eventually stopped asking her if she was okay. She’d managed to convince Gold that she didn’t need Graham’s things, but she’d still somehow managed to end up with his leather jacket hidden in her closet., still smelling like Old Spice, the forest, and a smell she could only describe as _Graham_.

The strange thing was that avoiding the topic of Graham wasn’t even hard to do. The memory of him seemed to fade after a few days, he was some distant memory they couldn’t recall. Emma didn’t even bother to question it because she preferred it that way.

She wanted to talk about it; she really did. The pain got easier to manage as time went by, even if it never went away. She loved Mary Margaret and trusted her, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak to her about Graham. It was too much like baring her soul to a parent with the way Margaret mothered her at times. Plus, every time she opened her mouth to start the conversation, the words refused to come.

It wasn’t until months later, late one night at Granny’s, when Emma finally managed to speak Graham’s name outside of a professional capacity again.

“His name was Graham.”

“And you loved him?”

“More than I’ve ever loved any other man, even Henry’s father. That’s pathetic, right?”

August pushed a strand of hair out of her face, giving her one of his ‘looks’. The one that said he could see right through her and into her soul.

“He’s the one who did this to you? Closed you off to everyone?”

Emma shook her head.

“No, he fixed me. My parents are the ones who closed me off, the day they abandoned me on the side of that road. Graham showed me that I was still capable of letting someone love me. It’s not something I let people do very often.”

August downed the rest of his drink and shook his head.

“Because they all eventually leave you,” he asked, a haunted look crossing his features, like he was reliving some horrible thing he’d done in the past.

“Or they die on you,” Emma said with a bitter laugh, taking another drink.

“You’re drunk, here, give me that,” August told her, taking her drink away. He set down money to pay Ruby for their liquid prescriptions and led her towards the staircase to the Inn. “Come on, you’re not driving like this. You can share the bed with me; I’ll sleep over the covers.”

Emma pulled August by the neck, kissing him. “Why do we need to sleep?”

August shook his head and smirked, pushing his door open.

“You’re drunk. I don’t make it a habit of taking advantage of drunken women. If you still want me tomorrow, we can discuss it.”

“Being drunk doesn’t change how I feel,” Emma whispered, kissing him again, and this time, he couldn’t help himself and kissed her back. He was a little drunk too.

August pulled her into the room and pressed her into the door, locking them in.

When the kiss broke, August let out a sigh, gathering his bearings.

“We can’t. You’re drunk and you’re the only friend I have in this town and you’re still in love with the dead guy. You only want me right now because you’re drunk and sad and thinking about the guy you’re still in love with.”

August watched her for a long moment before pushing away from her and running a hand through his hair. She was giving him her intense stare and he couldn’t deal with it, not now, not when the two of them had nearly polished off an entire bottle of Whiskey on their own.

“August…I…think I feel about you the way I feel about Graham and I don’t want to go through life not telling the people that I love how I feel about them anymore. Because you’re right, people do leave and they do die on you, but I don’t want them to keep leaving me without at least knowing how I feel.”

Emma was moving closer to him and he tried to keep his distance, but eventually she had him backed up against a wall, literally, with her hands cupping his face.

“Emma, you’re only saying all of this becau-“

“Because I’ve been drinking, I know, but I’m saying it all because it’s true and I’m too screwed up emotionally to admit to it while sober. I know I have issues and you’d be smart to go running in the other direction but you kissed me back, so I know it’s not just me.”

August tried to turn away from her, not wanting to deal with any of this, but Emma made him look at her.

“Tell me it’s just me and I’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”

Emma felt like an idiot because tears were pooling in her eyes and he was about to reject her and Graham’s voice was suddenly in her head trying to soothe her and it was too much for her to deal with after taking a chance on August. Damn August and damn Graham for dying.

She pulled away from August but he pulled her back.

“No, Emma, shh.” August hugged her to his chest and kissed the top of her head.

“It’s not just you,” he whispered. “It’s not just you.”

“You’re just say-“

“No, I’m not. You just deserve better. I’m-we both have issues, but you deserve to get over yours, I brought mine on myself. I’m not good enough. I’m not Graham. One day you’re going to see the real me and you’ll hate me for it.”

“August, after what I’ve been through in the past, I doubt there’s anything you could tell me that would make me hate you.”

August sighed.

Emma had no idea, but she would, and it was killing him.

August scooped her up and kicked off his shoes, tucking her into his bed. He was determined to sleep on the floor to keep either of them from doing something Emma would regret; either in the morning or whenever he told her the truth. The regret would come, one way or another.

But Emma didn’t seem to care, because the moment he tried to pull away from her, she was pulling him in and kissing him again. He was trying to be a decent guy, for once, but she was making it damn near impossible to stick to his guns on this one.

Emma kicked herself free of the covers and pushed him onto his back so she could straddle his waist and keep him from running.

“Emma…” August didn’t even bother to chastise her, he just sighed.

“Please, August. I need this. I need you.”

Emma’s eyes were pleading. She regretted not taking action with Graham sooner. All she had of him were memories of a few kisses and millions of regrets. She didn’t want to have those with August.

August seemed to sense her feelings, because a moment later August was kissing her, without hesitation this time. Emma pulled August towards the bed and soon they were laying side by side, August’s arms wrapped around her, still kissing.

Emma broke the kiss this time, watching August as he studied her face, his hand tracing the side of her face.

“What are you thinking about?”

“It’s stupid.” Emma was sobering up and what she needed from him was going to sound childish, but it was something she’d never had, not once, in all of these years, with all of the men who had come and gone in her life.

“I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

And he was telling the truth. Emma always knew when was lying. His voice changed. And right now it had that soft, non-teasing, serious tone that she didn’t think anyone else bothered to notice.

Emma shook her head, looking down, but August caught her chin and kissed her again, softly.

When he broke the kiss, Emma let herself say the words, in a whisper.

“Make love to me?”

She didn’t even have time to take it back, because he was kissing her again and this time, it was different. Up until now August had been careful with her, just like Graham had been, right before his death. Now, August was kissing her with real passion, reminding her of the night Graham had kissed her in a drunken fit and suddenly she was crying.

Apparently she wasn’t sober enough to separate the two men she was in love with.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. She wanted to explain, but she couldn’t form the words. She replayed Graham’s death in her head for the millionth time and while the wound was no longer fresh, there was still a painful scar there to remind her that the pain would never really leave her.

But she didn’t need to explain. August held her against his chest without comment, letting her cry herself to sleep in his arms.

When Emma woke, the clock alerted her that it was just after three and her eyes alerted her to the fact that August had been watching her sleep because he was still awake and watching her.

Emma was stone cold sober and knowing that August had been willing to wait, going as far as to let her be vulnerable without judging her and keeping watch over her made her decision for her.

“I’m not drunk anymore and its tomorrow and I still want you.”

August didn’t need further invitation to take her in his arms and finally make love to her.

The sun rose and Emma was still in August’s arms, feeling better than she had in a long time. But there was still something missing. Something she needed to do. And Emma needed to do it now, before she lost her resolve. Kissing August, she slipped out of his arms, trying not to wake him. She dressed and as she pulled on her boots, August stirred behind her.

“Regretting last night already?”

Emma glanced back to find August grinning and shook her head. He was slightly hung-over and his hair was a mess, but he managed to own the look.

She grabbed her jacket and leaned down to give August a long, meaningful kiss.

“I just need to take care of something before I head to the station. I’ll see you later.” It wasn’t a question; they both knew she’d be seeing him later.

August was too tired to banter with her; he was asleep again before she reached the door.

Emma closed the door gently, not wanting to wake any of the other boarders.

“Miss Swan.”

Just great. Of all the people to catch her sneaking out of a man’s room this early in the morning it had to be Regina. Lurking with her skeleton keys of all things. Tomorrow she was having new locks put in. August too.

“Regina.” Emma kept her cool and walked by Regina without another word or look.

On the street, Emma caught sight of Ruby, who gave Emma a knowing smirk.

“August?”

Emma rolled her eyes with a small smile.

“Shut up.”

Ruby laughed and entered the diner for her shift.

With a small smile on her face for the entire drive, Emma went back to her and Margaret’s apartment, which hadn’t felt like home with her roommate locked up in jail. She still wasn’t sure how to stop Regina and clear Mary Margaret’s name, but between her and August, they’d figure it out.

Emma dug through her closet, pulling out the box with her baby blanket and the information she’d collected about her parents. Then she pulled Graham’s jacket off of its hanger. She held it close for a moment, remembering Graham, and trying to memorize his scent.

“Goodbye Graham,” she whispered, finally ready to let him go. She would always care about him, but it was time to move on. She couldn’t mourn a dead man for the rest of her life.

Saying a final, mental goodbye, Emma carefully folded the jacket, placing it gently in the box with the few things she always kept with her. Emma closed the box and placed it carefully on the top shelf of her closet. She didn’t need it anymore.

Storybrooke was her home now and Graham wasn’t the only thing she needed to put to rest. It was time to let her past go too, which meant a break from her search for the truth. She needed to focus on her kid, her best friend, and now August, she supposed.

A knock at the door broke her thoughts.

Emma swung the door open to find August and his cheeky grin holding out a cup of coffee for her.

“I figured ‘what the Hell’, if you need to spend the day sleep deprived and working cases, the least I can do is spend it with you.”

She took the coffee and pulled August into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind him as she kissed him.

No, maybe deciding to stay in this town hadn’t been the worst decision she’d ever made.


End file.
